


A pleasure of annihilation

by feedmyflame



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Foreplay, Intimacy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feedmyflame/pseuds/feedmyflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touch is all they know and all they need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A pleasure of annihilation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Valentine's Day Porn Comment Ficathon.
> 
> Prompt from upupa_epops: Damon/Elena, foreplay. Title adapted from an offhand comment by the magnificent prompter.

They take their time.

Because they can, because they can’t not, because touch is all they know and all they need.

He starts, always, on her face. A stroke on the cheek and she closes her eyes and smiles soft and her cheek curves into his palm, and his hand slips back into her hair, slow, deliberate.

His lips move into her ear, chasing his hands, and he whispers something just to leave his breath on her. She rests her palm on his chest, feels him, feels him breathing because he wants to breathe when he’s with her. She tracks the air from his lungs to her neck and her other hand pulls him close, bodies moving into each other long before they lock.

He takes his time, because he has a lot of time, suddenly. Everything else that had a claim on his time, his attention, silly things like himself, finally don’t matter at all. Aren’t even there. The more there is of her, the less there is of him, and there’s so much of her if he paces himself. He tries to ration her, make her stretch, so he goes so slow, doesn’t want to use up all her skin at once. He lingers, it feels like hours, at the little dip between her shoulder and her chest. He lives for days, it seems, over her heart, moving over the same spots one, two, a hundred times. He’ll memorize her if it kills him. Everything. Everything about her, the color of her, the cells that flow up and down with her inhales, the elasticity of flesh that he moves his lips over. The timbre of the sighs. The cadence of the giggles. The tension of the fingers on his scalp. The feedback from his tastebuds as he moves her apart. The twitch of little muscles and the stretch of bigger ones, the pressure of heels in his back. 

He records it all and she holds him in place until she’s close, and he records that too. She pulls him up and he notes the shift in her eyes, a little less focused, and he wants her unfocused forever. He doesn’t care, really, whether she wants to stay blurry, wants to stay _almost_ , because the longer he keeps her _almost_ the better. Fingerpads trace thighs that move up through air, and she’s even blurrier and he’s never been more clear. Same fingerpads collect the data of her with ruthless precision, move inside to record that too, and her bones shift around under her flesh, restless in their boundaries. But he can’t keep her _almost_ forever, she won’t let him, and it’s always over too soon.

She rolls him under her and blurs him too, and when she holds him down and locks them together he disappears completely.


End file.
